DAYS 65 – 74

Day 65

I watched a man die right before my eyes

Today I witnessed an ugly side of Tanzania. My first day back on my feet was a day of horror I’ll never forget as long as I’m living.

Bruno opened the office on a Saturday to let a few of us come in to catch up on work. I’m very behind in work after being off sick for almost 2 weeks so Baraka and I, along with some admin staff went to the office to get caught up. We had been quietly working when we heard a shouts and screaming and went to the window to see what the fuss was about.

Inside the compound of the building, a few guys were taking turns beating another man. Alarmed at the display of violence, I asked Baraka why they were doing that. “That’s what they do to thieves” was all he said. As they continued to beat him I asked Baraka when they planned to stop, he answered “They will try to beat him to death”. I stared at him in disbelief.

I dashed out of the office and headed downstairs to where it was happening. A large mob had formed and more people were rushing over to witness the commotion. The man was crying out, and sprawled on the ground.

More guys had joined-in beating the man, and had now graduated to rocks. When the rocks weren’t doing enough damage they got a hold of bricks and began bashing the man down over and over again. Others began stomping on his head with their feet.

I asked the people around me what exactly had happened and they each confirmed what Baraka had already told me “the man is a thief.” What he stole didn’t matter, just that he had stolen something, and he had to pay with his life.

I impulsively marched forward, I don’t even know what I had planned to do, but before I could get far Baraka, who had joined me downstairs, abruptly grabbed me and said “Don’t be foolish. Unless you want to die with him, stay back.” Apparently by helping a victim you’re supporting a thief by taking their side, and you too, will get beaten along with them

People continued to flock around, encouraging the perpetrators to carry on, probably thinking they were doing the world a whole lot of justice by killing this man, others were standing around, looking on and laughing, entertained by it all. The man had gone completely limp and couldn’t even shield himself anymore.

The sight of it was already appalling but what was even more sickening was that people were just standing there, passively watching a man die. I screamed at people to stop the beating but no one wanted to side with a thief and if I wasn’t a foreigner they would’ve taken me down with him.

Baraka called 112, their 911, and explained the situation to the operator in Swahili. When he got off the line he gave me an I-told-you-so look and said “Police here are useless, they are sending someone but knowing them they will show up hours from now when he’s already dead.”

Tears streamed down my face as I watched them bash his skull against the ground and drop bricks on his body. With every blow that made contact with his body you could hear more organs bleeding, bones crushing. He had already stopped crying-out.

Something snapped inside me and I couldn’t take it anymore. I remembered Bruno had gone for tea down the street and sprinted over there to ask for his help. I got there and couldn’t speak coherently. Baraka had caught up to me and explained what was happening to Bruno who quickly got on his feet to accompany us back to the scene.

When we got back things were getting out of hand. People were growing louder and rowdier, and began chanting “petro, petro”, wanting to douse the man in gas and light him on fire. I quietly prayed the police would show up soon.

Bruno, being the Chairman of the building compound and well known in the area as a man of authority, took charge and commanded them to stop. He bellowed that the police were on their way and he would have anyone who remained on building property arrested if they continued. It took some coercion but the mob finally disbanded one by one. By the time it was safe to approach the man, it was too late. Too much damage had been done to his body.

The site of the bloody body before me was too much and I broke down in tears. Baraka took me back upstairs to the office where I continued to sob, traumatized by the event. What happened afterwards I don’t know, but I imagine when the police & ambulance finally made an appearance they didn’t bother resuscitating him and took the body away. What I do know for certain is that no one was taken in on charges for the murder of that man.

It was the most gruesome horrifying scene I still can’t get out of my head. How could they do this to another person? It was so barbaric and inhumane. I was filled with anger towards the perpetrators who beat him, each and every person who had been part of the crowd including my co-workers who just stood there and didn’t budge, even towards Baraka who didn’t think of calling the police sooner.

To them it was vigilante justice. I learned later from the chatter and stories that lingered in the area after the incident, that he had stolen fruit.

He took fruit and they took his life.


Day 66

Trauma still lingers

I needed to be alone today and spent most of the day by myself. I decided to take a walk through the neighbourhood of my office. Looking around, my surroundings seemed so foreign to me all over again.

I wondered if any of the faces who greeted me pleasantly as I passed, were among those who helped beat the man down yesterday. I wondered which fruit stand and vender the dead man had stolen from, and who among the grim faces I passed might’ve been friends with him or related to him, and learned of his horrible death. I passed children sketching pictures in the dirt and wondered if he had children and family he wanted to feed with the fruits he had stolen.

I talked to Baraka about it later who sensed it was still troubling me. We talked through it but in the end I remained disheartened and grew more despondent. “There is no justice system here, Hannah” he explained, “This is Africa, it’s not like where you come from, where you can press charges or put someone on probation. Thieves are thrown in jail for a day or two but the next day they are back on the streets, weaker and hungrier, and won’t hesitate to steal again.”

“That doesn’t make it right” I countered, “How do you justify a life for a banana?”

Baraka told me just days ago he witnessed a teenage boy beat up the same way, because he stole a pair of slippers. The boy’s mother came rushing to the scene but it was too late. He died in his mother’s arms and she wept while holding him. Afterward she gave back the slippers he took, he would no longer need them.

He’s seen many more horrific scenes of violence where a tire was tied around the victim’s neck, gasoline was poured on them and they were burned to death. These are fairly regular occurrences in Tanzania, he told me. To my dismay, he added, the violence here is tame compared to other African countries like South Africa, Zimbabwe or Nairobi to name a few.

I’ve been so naïve and sheltered. I’m living in a neighbourhood that would probably be considered Dar’s Rosedale if comparing to Toronto, and far removed from where these incidences would notoriously occur. What I didn’t know was that the very neighbourhood our office is located is among one of them. There haven’t been any major incidents up until now, but Baraka warned me this may not be the only murder I witness this year.

“This is Africa,” he repeated, “That’s how hard life is here. People aren’t educated. It’s survival of the fittest, but without education and a fair justice system there is no chance of survival. You die if you go hungry, but you also die if you steal to eat.”

I’m so sick of hearing ‘this is Africa’. It is powerless moments like these that make me want to bail out and go home. Baraka, must have read my mind. While hugging me tight he earnestly whispered, “Thank you for being here, we need all the help we can get”. I gave a bittersweet laugh and tried unsuccessfully to hide the tears that were welling up.


Day 67

Monday back to work

Coming to the office now triggers images of the brutal death of the man. I walk by the very spot where the barbaric actions took place and can’t get the horrific images out of my mind. There is a lot to catch up on at work so I’m hoping I can keep myself preoccupied.

The rest of the staff who weren’t there to witness Saturday’s incident, got to read about it in the local papers today. I presume reporters were called to the scene at the end, for the great photo op of the dead man.

My African parents

With the increasing incidence of crime in our area, and TANOPHA being my host here in Tanzania, Mama Tobias and Bruno have been concerned about my safety and advised me not to walk home by myself anymore. Bruno went as far as to escort me to the bus stop and see me off, informing the conductor exactly where to let me off.

Though I appreciate their care and concern as my host, if anything should happen to me I would never personally hold them responsible in any way. I’ll be taking the dreaded Dala Dala this week until things cool-off. Next week however, I’ll go back to my routine of walking home and whatever happens, happens.


Day 68

Meeting the Canadian Ambassador at his residence.

I was invited to the farewell party of the Canadian Ambassador to Tanzania, who is returning home to Canada. The other Canadians I knew couldn’t make it so I went solo.

The Canadian Residence is a huge compound with a beautiful ocean view of the beach. We got a small peek in some of the common rooms near the entrance and it was brilliantly furnished with classic furniture and African artefacts.

The party started around 6pm and upon arrival I was introduced to the Ambassador, Dr. Andrew McAllister and his wife, Mrs. Bente McAllister. We chatted for a bit; they asked me what my background was, what I was doing in Tanzania and how I was enjoying my stay so far.

After my chat with the Ambassador, I was by myself for the first while. There was free booze and plenty of h’ordeurves. I didn’t know a single person there, so I stayed close by the bar sipping wine. People began approaching me to make small talk. I met a whole slew of different people including Canadian missionary nuns working with orphans in rural villages across the country, and other Civil Servants working for various NGO’s of different interests.

I met the D.R. Congo High Commission Secretary who was apparently there to scout easy game and didn’t beat around the bush. He asked if I was married, I answered no. He asked if I was attached, I told him I left a boyfriend in Canada; he answered, “Well then, since he’s so far away perhaps we should get together one night.” I walked away to find other people to chat with.

There were a few Asians in the crowd and we gave each other the obligatory nod of acknowledgement. I met one Filipina who was delighted to meet a fellow Filipino in Dar. There is a small population of Asians who are primarily Chinese, but Filipinos are scarce. We chatted in Tagalog for a bit and it was nice to refresh myself in my language. She’s a housewife who doesn’t seem to have much interest in absorbing any Tanzanian culture while she’s here and hasn’t made any effort learning the language either despite living here for over two years now. Her husband is Canadian and works for the High Commission.

There was a short programme where the Ambassador said a few words of farewell and alternated between English, French and Swahili. A toast was raised to the health and prosperity of both Canada & Tanzania. Words were distributed for both national anthems of Tanzania and Canada and both were sung. Tanzanians who were part of the crowd belted their anthem with pride and we belted ours. It was a nice warm feeling of unity between the two nations.

Looking around there were very few young people and most were twice my age and very experienced in the world of international relations so I felt a little out of place at first. Later that evening, I found myself chatting with guys from the High Commissions of Japan and Italy who were closer to my age. Their backgrounds were in business/commerce so I learned a little bit about Japanese & Italian relations in Africa. The two Italian guys were Stefano who’s been living here the past three years, and Julian who is also an intern and got here about the same time as me.

After we bonded and had a few too many drinks, I had reached my limit of wine and it was time to go home. It turns out the two Italians live close to me so I got a ride home with them.

It was a much-needed relaxing evening to chill and I felt very international.


Day 69

Harder times

This week there’s been a lot of buzz about the new budget that was just released in parliament. The price of oil has gone up affecting prices of everything else that trickles down from it.

Dar’s transport system has also been hit pretty hard by the budget and bus fare went up 100 Shillings. A round trip on the Dala Dala now costs 600 shillings, which is just 400 shillings short of how much people make in one day on average. Many bus conductors have been let go and some have tried to run off with earnings from the bus fares, causing more vigilante justice. Crime in general has been on the rise just in the past week. If I was oblivious to it before, I’ve now developed a heightened awareness to the chatter when I hear about another death on the street.

Additionally our neighbours to the north have been going through their share of political instability as Kenya is preparing for elections. The headlines read of murders everyday in Nairobi and there’s been growing economic strain in the East African Union.

Tanzania only recently transitioned from socialism to capitalism about 5 years ago. Though their infrastructure has somewhat improved and GDP gone up some, profits have only benefited very few and the little people are still being screwed over.

Many people are living on less than a dollar a day. I learned our guard, Christopher is getting paid the equivalent of just under $30 Cdn a month. He asked me if I knew of other places he can take a second job because living on 30,000/= Tsh wasn’t helping to support his family. The owner of the compound pays the salary of the help around here and I couldn’t believe it was so little. The equivalent of a dollar here is about 1,000/= Tsh which can buy a loaf of bread.

Teach a man to fish, he still goes hungry

The other day I was at the office and noticed no one was taking their lunch. I asked why no one wanted to eat today and Malik spoke up and said “we haven’t received this month’s pay yet.” I shook my head dejected that even the educated and working class struggle through life the way they do. I ordered rolls of ugali and mbuzi (goat meat) enough for all the staff to share at the office and it cost the equivalent of about $8 Canadian dollars.

People who have been taught to fish still go hungry. What good are fishing skills when you don’t even have a durable net to catch them with? This is Africa I bitterly thought..


Day 70

Fieldwork rolling in

The counselling has begun and I’ve been facilitating training sessions to PLHA’s on treatment literacy at VCT’s (Voluntary Counselling Treatment Centres) in the city. I’m teaching new users of ARV’s how to take their meds properly and maximize their therapy through good nutrition and physical activity. For the most part the patients are there by choice and very receptive to the discussions and I find myself inundated with so many questions.

A little bit of basic immunology background

WBC = white blood cells
-These guys normally fight off viruses and are the main target of HIV
-As more WBC’s are attacked the immune system is weakened

HIV = human immuno deficiency virus
-When the virus attacks it binds to the surface of WBC’s with the help of CD4 and expels its junk into the cytoplasm of the cell
-It’s DNA is copied and incorporated into the cell, allowing the production of more and more viruses to continue infecting other WBC’s and killing them off and reducing the number of CD4.

CD4 = cluster differentiated protein found in WBC’s
-CD4’s are proteins in WBC’s that are responsible for stimulating the production of antibodies and multiplication of other WBC’s.
-Healthy people have on average a CD4 count of about 1000+
-Tanzania’s policy on eligibility for ARV’s is a CD4 count of 200 and below
-Patients in most countries in Europe, the US and Canada usually start ARV’s when CD4 is from 500 - 300 and below.
-Full blown AIDS is 50 and below.

ART = anti retroviral therapy
-Unless ART is administered, the virus will continue to kill off WBC’s, weakening the immune system, progressing to AIDS
-ART prevents the transcription for DNA replication and prevents CD4 from allowing the virus to bind to the cell
-The virus is constantly mutating and after taking particular ARV drugs overtime, the body eventually stops responding to it and the patient then has to graduate to the next level drug.
-Most people are put on multi therapy cocktails right away. These are a mixture of different grades of ART to cover more ground

AIDS = acquired immune deficiency syndrome
-When more WBC’s are attacked the immune system is weakened and the condition progresses to AIDS
-Weakened immune system means susceptibility to infections and people don’t die of AIDS itself but rather, the opportunistic diseases that propagate when they’ve reached the state of AIDS
-Under ideal circumstances most people can live with HIV for long periods of time if they are very careful and can sustain their overall health to prevent the onset of AIDS
-Some can be HIV+ for many years and do not need ARV’s which should be used as a last resort
-It’s possible in the first world for PLHA’s to live healthy lives, but unfortunately a death sentence in Sub Saharan Africa
-The vulnerable include children, those who can’t afford to eat well, or those who work in tough conditions where they have to wear their body down causing their strength and immunity to deteriorate
-Children who are born with HIV do not live long because their immune system is immature and ARV’s can only sustain their immunity for so long before they succumb to AIDS


Day 71

I bang pianos

I think out of all my possessions I miss my piano the most. I started practicing again when I moved back home and discovered it was a completely different feeling playing for my own enjoyment than when I used to take it seriously. It was so soothing and therapeutic that when I kept practicing I found I enjoyed it on a completely different level and even progressed with new repertoire.

Even when I was away from home and went away to school, I’d sneak into the music building on campus whenever I needed to release pent up emotions and pound at the keys. Here, there is no place I can sneak into to get access to a piano. I could use a release about now. I could also use other mediums of release about now… but a cold shower will have to do.


Day 72

Girl bonding part II

I spent Saturday bonding with the girls Neema, Pascazia, and Halima, from the office who invited me to go shopping with them. Kariakoo is like Dar’s Eaton Centre, so I made another trip yet again to the infamous Kariakoo. I felt like an ornament for the most part, they were so eager to parade around with me and enjoyed the catcalls and hollering we got from people as we walked by.

I was their new subject they wanted to dress up and initiate as an African woman so they took me to a place where we picked up fabric to have matching African style dresses made. I didn’t mind them fawning over me and found it kind of cute that they were so enthusiastic to have me in their company. They got their kicks out of flaunting their ‘Mzungu’ friend to everyone there.

Neema speaks the most English out of the three, while Pascazia speaks very little, and Halima, none at all, so whenever I’m in their company it’s a great opportunity for me to step up my Swahili.

Boys, boys, boys

Afterwards I invited them to my place for lunch and what could possibly be the heated topic of conversation when you get a bunch of girls together in one room but boys! The outpour of gossip made me blush at the amount of detail they went into about certain guys they fancied at the office and questions they asked me about my experience with boys. If I thought African men were forward and bold, African women put them to shame!

“I would marry a mzungu man if he can make love as good as an African man, otherwise I’ll stick with a poor but well endowed African” (Mzungu means European and is used to refer to any white or non-black foreign person)
“Do you plan to never leave your room when your mchumba comes to visit?” (mchumba means boyfriend/girlfriend)
“You should take an African boyfriend, you have needs you know. I’m sure your Canadian boyfriend will understand. He’s probably already gotten a new girlfriend so you should check if his needs are being taken care of while you are here.”

Yikes…

No, I haven’t taken an African boyfriend and cope just fine. Between sweating in the sizzling heat and the cold showers it kind of puts you off anyway. Anthony will be coming to visit in December just in time when I hit the six-month mark. I’ll take my holidays then and we’ll be travelling around the country before we part for another six months.

He’s been busy with work as it is, if I had stuck around we wouldn’t have seen much of each other anyway. He has told me he copes by doing push-ups everyday…if we make it past this, I’m pretty sure we can make it through anything.

Loneliness

All the boy-talk made me lonely that night. When I was deciding whether to accept this placement it really boiled down to Anthony. My family will still be my family when I get back and friends will remain, but I wasn’t so sure if I’d still have a boyfriend when I get back.

We’re going on 7 years now and we’ve had our share of challenges. We met in residence our first year of university and stuck together since. It was tough being apart after we graduated and moved back to Toronto and shortly after, he left for law school. We’ve been doing long distance for two years and now even further in distance for the year that I’m here. It’s been a rough ride, but somehow we’ve made it work so far.

It’s especially difficult when I’m depressed and rundown from the things I see everyday. I’ve seen the sickest people who are knocking on death’s doorstep, babies just born but already dying, young children who aspire to be teachers and astronauts when they grow up, but won’t even live to see double digits, thieves who steal food in order to eat but get killed for it, street children picking through garbage to salvage anything edible they can find….

At the end of the day when I most need someone to just hold me, I go home alone and process all of what I’ve seen by myself.


Day 73

Hassan, my fruit dealer

I’ve got a fruit guy, Hassan who caters to me every time I stop by the market to pick up fruit. The guys at the stand now expect to see me everyday. When I was sick for nearly two weeks they had been wondering where I’ve been.

As I’m approaching the guys are already hollering my name and greet me. Hassan is my favourite guy of the bunch, really sweet and before I’ve even arrived he’s already set aside the best of the pickings for me. I give him the Islam greeting As-Salāmu `Alaykum , he replies wa `Alaykum As-Salām. After I’ve collected my fruit I hang out to chat with them for a bit. I’ve picked up the bulk of my Swahili slang from them.

Afterwards Hassan escorts me to the main road and I’ll bid him “tutaonana kesho” See you tomorrow, to which he reples “kama mungu anapenda” if God wish.

You know you’re in need of a cold shower when…

While hanging out with the fruit stand guys today, I mentioned I hate peeling pineapples so Hassan offered to prepare it for me.

He took out the pineapple I bought, flipped it up in the air, caught it on the edge of his machete he whipped out of his belt and skilfully began peeling it with broad swift strokes. He was so smooth with the tool and expertly made his way around the edge of the fruit while the juices dripped off his arm. I sat there starring, stupefied (and kind of turned on). If I was drooling I couldn’t tell if it was because of the sweet citrus scent of fresh pineapple hitting my nostrils or his slick motions and proficiency with the blade.

When he was through he handed me the bag of fresh pineapple and I reached for it, flustered. When I ate it later that night all I could think of was…. well it was time to take that cold shower.

Who knew peeling a pineapple could be so hot.


Day 74

Had a really long, hard day today. I’m feeling really sad and lonely right now.

DAYS 54-64

Day 54

Guess what I came down with…

I’m writing this several days after Day 54 has passed… and this is why:

It was a bright and sunny morning and I woke up feeling hot, very very hot –and not at all in a sexy way. My skin was scorching and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the high temperature outside, or if it was my body emitting heat. The past few nights I felt myself coming down with something and popped a bunch of vits, herbs and other concoctions of Chinese medicines my grandma, who swears by it, supplied me with, hoping it would go away but whatever it was had finally caught up to me.

My body ached and head was throbbing. I could hear my quickened pulse echoing in my skull. It felt like my skeleton would snap from the weight of my skin. It hurt to move, took a lot of effort to breath and I couldn’t get myself out of bed. I felt like I had been run-down by a truck.

Baraka and I had a field assignment out of town. When he came to pick me up I was still in bed. The maid let him into the house and he made his way upstairs to see what was holding me up. I was barely conscious of his presence.

I remember a lot of chatter between him and the maid, and the annoying ringtone of his cell phone going off that made my head hurt and I remember thinking what the hell, shut up an let me get some rest! …apparently I wasn’t just thinking this and actually said this out loud, Baraka told me later.

Before I knew it I was being lifted from my bed, undressed from my nightwear, into clothes they had randomly pulled from my closet. I was too weak to put up a fuss and completely submitted myself to them. They hauled me into the project van and took me to Aga Khan Hospitali downtown.

I drifted in and out of consciousness throughout our wait, and don’t even remember the encounter with the doctor. They even pricked my finger and I didn’t flinch. The only part I remember is Baraka helping me up to leave.

“Hannah, listen to me” he said, “You have Malaria.”

I jolted to consciousness at the sound of Malaria.

“What??!!!!”

He showed me the paper with my lab results showing +’ve for Malarial parasites.

How could I have gotten Malaria??? Damn useless Larium, giving me vivid dreams and paranoia and couldn’t even prevent Malaria!!!

I lost it and began wailing hysterically, that people around me began asking “Ukimwi? Ukimwi? Is it Ukimwi?”…..

(Ukimwi means HIV+ in Swahili)

Oh geez… Nice one, Hannah! I thought. UGH!

I had contracted Malaria, but there were a low number of parasites in my blood that it was minor and treatable with Coartem. Apparently it’s like the Pill and not 100% effective. I’ll admit I missed more than a few doses … I suffered and paid for it.

Baraka managed to calm me down and told me, “It’s no big deal, I get it at least once every couple years”. To people here, it’s like a common cold and treatable as long as testing is timely and meds are taken promptly. Their bodies can handle it so long as they get treatment, but to weakling foreigners who’ve never been exposed to anything as exotic as Malaria, our bodies don’t take it as well and it really bogs you down.

“You think you feel sick now, wait t’ill you take your medicine” he warned me as he handed me my meds.

Coartem, is the universal drug you take to wipe you clean of any parasitic infestation including Malaria but really does a number on your body. It completely runs you down, and probably eats up a good chunk of your liver, but apparently very necessary, so the studies say.

I remember learning about this drug it in one of my clinical classes and thought “Oh… shit… I’m gonna be the guy straight out of a case study.”

No words can even begin to describe the ungodly feeling of discomfort and pain I was afflicted with that week. It cost me very agonizing painful nights of hell. Think of the worse fever/flu you’ve ever suffered and multiply that by a million! “Not so invincible after all,” I scolded myself.

Hoyce, the girl I’m living with, has been travelling out of town for the past few weeks and still not back yet, so I’ve been staying at the house alone. Baraka didn’t want to leave me by myself and spent the night. There is no other furniture in our house other than the beds in our bedrooms. There was no couch for him to sleep on and he didn’t want to sleep in Hoyce’s bed, so the poor guy slept in a chair beside my bed and watched me thrash in my sleep as my body processed the Coartem.

I was out of commission for the rest of the week and hated myself for it. A week of work was lost.


Day 55 --SICK--


Day 56 --SICK--

Malaria bites.


Day 57 --SICK--

To the mosquito that infected me, you suck.


Day 58 --SICK--

Down with mosquitoes!


Day 59 --SICK--

Canada Day in Tanzania

I missed the big Embassy party and spent Canada Day in bed. I had been looking forward to it all week. My fever finally broke the day before and I wanted to drag myself out of bed to attend but Baraka wouldn’t let me past the door. I activated the waterworks and he still wouldn’t budge. I was crushed I had to miss it.

Happy Birthday Canada. I miss you dearly.


Day 60 --SICK--


Day 61

Recovering….

I can now sit up without feeling dizzy and weak, and walk around on my own. The gang from the office came by to visit! They all piled in the project van and drove to my place together. I received many Pole sana’s which is an expression of sympathy in Swahili. Swahili people are very apologetic.


Day 62

Recovering…

Day 63

Recovering…

This has been the longest week EVER


Day 64

Baraka means ‘blessing’ in Swahili

Baraka has been my rock and I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without him. The maid would prepare food for me in the morning, which I didn’t have an appetite for, and Baraka would drop by in the afternoon after work, and force me to eat it. Sometimes he’d come with a thermos full of hot porridge and practically had to force-feed me to take it, it was so bland!

I can be pretty stubborn when I’m sick and I imagine I must’ve been pretty cranky too, so why he stuck around, I don’t know, but will forever be grateful and in his debt. He would stay with me the rest of the day and wouldn’t leave until I had fallen asleep. Although there were some nights I don’t think he left at all and slept in the chair by my bed and still went to work in the morning.

To express my appreciation I told him I’ll name my first-born child after him. I think he will hold me to it.

My poor, poor liver

I really hope my liver is still functional by the end of this year after the abuse it’s gotten.. I’m gonna chug milk thistle when I get home.

DAYS 41 – 53

Day 41

Realizing my worst fear

After tonight I have realized my worst fear is that something bad would happen at home and I couldn’t be there for my family. My mom called me at 11 am my time (4am Toronto time) to let me know my sister Sarah was in the ER. She said she needed emergency surgery but wouldn’t elaborate how serious it was and abruptly hung up the line. I couldn’t concentrate at work, and tried to text my parents throughout the day to find out what was happening.

When I got home, I went insane trying to get a hold of them but they weren’t answering my calls or texts. I was beside myself with worry thinking the worse had happened but all I could do was pace in my room wishing there was some way I could teleport myself back home.

She’s the only one left at home. My youngest sister, Christine is travelling for the summer and going to University in Ottawa, and I had also gone away to University. Christine and I both left for our travels at the same time, leaving Sarah who’s been lonely.

Just earlier this week she called me and was crying on the phone, emotional about relationships and didn’t have neither Christine nor I to lean on. I’ve lived a good number of years away from home but home was just a train ride away. Now everything is so far off and out of reach I’m feeling disconnected from everyone and wishing I could just hop on a train and be back in a few hours.

Christine and I were networking from across the globe, messaging back and forth updates on what we had found out. There was nothing else to do but wait for news to arrive. It was a strenuous night, and I was ready to book a flight home when I finally got word that she was going to be ok.

The threat of something bad happening has now made me worried and paranoid at the prospect.


Day 42

Weekend getaway in the country

Jeff, the American I met on the plane sprung an invitation for me to visit him in Morogoro, which is about 200 km inland, east of Dar es Salaam. He’s working in Malaria research for an American biomedical research company and has been travelling with his clinic all over the country.

He’s a really easy-going guy, very funny and charismatic, we clicked right away and became fast friends during the plane ride to Dar. We’ve been emailing back and forth and calling to compare notes about our various encounters with the locals here. This is the first weekend he’s had off to stay in town so he invited me to spend the weekend there and check out the sites.

I rode for 2 ½ hours on a very cramped, hot, smelly bus. It made riding the Greyhound seem so luxurious! The buses are much smaller than the Greyhound coaches, and made to seat 3 people instead of 2 in a row. They have a special deal where you pay half price but have to stand and hang onto the overhead rack the entire way, which a few people did. A round trip ticket costs the equivalent of about $8 Canadian. The same distance from Toronto to Windsor/London would cost over $100 Cdn round trip!

As usual I was the only foreigner on the bus and as soon as I got on, I could hear everyone murmuring and whispering “look an Mchina just got on the bus… look at the Mchina... look there’s an Mchina on the bus!”. I made sure to equip myself with Gravol out of fear my nausea would kick in and took double the dose to knock myself out so I could sleep through the ride.

I left at about 3:30pm, and arrived after 6pm. As soon as I got off the bus I was bombarded with peddlers trying to sell me corn and peanuts, and taxi cab drivers pulling at my arm to try to get me into a taxi. I was already groggy from the double dose of Gravol, and feeling disoriented with the mob that was crowding me. Just when I was about to panic Jeff came to my rescue.

He picked me up in his company’s project car, and drove me to Morogoro hospital. He showed me the lab he’s working out of and it looked like the orgo labs right out of university, and surprisingly pretty well equipped with up-to-date technology. He showed me around other parts of the hospital including the morgue where a lot of young children had just been brought in that day most likely from Malaria. The death toll from Malaria is much higher than AIDS.

He took me to a popular hangout where a lot of expats and foreigners go. When we got there I had the same weird feeling I got when I was at the mall in Dar and it felt like we had temporarily stepped out of Africa. There was a fairly large group from Sweden, a few Brits, one German, a couple Americans and Canadians –a good mix of everything. Ethnically speaking I was the only Asian of the bunch.

When we got to talking with everyone, it was interesting to hear about their “pet cause”. Mine I suppose is HIV/AIDS, Jeff’s is Malaria, there were a few teachers in the group, American Peacecorp volunteers, while others did work ranging from other infectious diseases, to Women’s Rights, to training rats to sniff out landmines. We exchanged business cards at the end of the night and offered whatever support we could lend to each other during our stay.


Day 43

Day II in Morogoro

I actually used a blanket to sleep and woke up shivering in the morning! I’ve gotten so used to Dar es Salaam heat, and didn’t expect to be chilly in Morogoro. I woke up and Jeff already had a pot of coffee brewing. The place he’s staying in is a small house on the Nyombosi University Campus, which is their agricultural university, comparable to Ontario’s Guelph University.

The sun was still rising when we left his place and the site of the mountains as we walked down the path was absolutely breathtaking. Morogoro is enveloped in mountains and the weather is very temperate. I love the fast-paced city life, but walking through the country roads of Morogoro with the beautiful backdrop of mountains was a nice refreshing change of pace from Dar.

He took me to a cute little place in town to have chai and chipate for breakfast and it was the perfect start to the day. We then met with his co-worker Geoff, who is Kenyan and also doing research at Morogoro Hospital. We met up with 2 other friends of Geoff’s, who offered to be our guides for the day. We hiked up one of the smaller mountain peaks hoping to see monkeys and other wildlife but none made an appearance. We did see a lot of weird bugs and huge snails.

An American, Canadian, Kenyan & Tanzanian Maasai

It was noon by the time we got back down so we grabbed a quick bite to eat. The next item on our itinerary was to venture out to the Maasai villages. We headed out in a truck, with two guys riding in the back at full speed along the country roads. We were going as fast as 140km and I impulsively looked out back every now and then to make sure the guys were still there!

An hour later we arrived at a small Maasai village. The guys were awesome as our guides and took our cameras from us to take pictures with so we wouldn’t have to worry about holding them. It seemed a little awkward at first but they insisted it would be better this way, and I think they were having fun with our cameras. They followed Jeff and I, snapping away like paparazzi, as we walked through to browse at the market.

It didn’t take long to attract attention and pretty soon a crowd formed around us. Jeff read my mind when he said out loud “So this is how it feels to be a rock star”. I don’t at all enjoy the attention in Dar cause it’s usually from guys trying to make a pass at you, but with the guys and Jeff by my side, I didn’t feel as self conscious and more secure despite the mob that was forming.

A guy wheeled through a wagon full of coconuts and Jeff got us some. When the guy handed me the coconut, I asked for a straw. He gave me a blank stare.

We bought a few items, which the guys helped us bargain for. We found that if we sent our Tanzanian friends over to the stand to ask for their prices, it suddenly inflated when it was Jeff or I who went next to ask cause they were charging the ‘Mzungu’ price. Jeff and I both bought Kangas which are the African style printed material women here use as either shawls or wrap-around skirts.

We also bought Maasai beads that we later learned are sexual trinkets they use during lovemaking. The women use the beads to attract men, and the men play with them on the woman’s body. It was pretty interesting to hear about their sex practices with these beads and how certain tribes are notorious for being an ‘expert’ user of these beads and using them to please their partner. I’m afraid of wearing mine now thinking it’ll attract the wrong kind of attention from the males here.

Winding down

Later that evening we had dinner at Rock Garden, which is a popular place for locals to go hangout on a Saturday night. You eat out doors and then dance out on the rocks. After the eating and dancing I felt tired and thought for sure we had hit the midnight mark but looked at my watch in bewilderment that it was only 9pm! The guys were still drinking but fortunately Jeff was tiring out too and threw in the towel with me.

We stopped by his lab so he can check up on test tubes, pitri dishes and whatnot while I tinkered on his computer and looked at the pictures we had taken that day. The candid shots the guides took of us were priceless. I don’t think I’ve squeezed so much activity into one day!

Monkey see, Monkey throw

We got back to his place to find there was no running water. While waiting for water to come back on we decided to go outside to see if there were monkeys. Jeff said they usually come out at night to feed on the crops, and sure enough there they were in the trees eating corn with their opposable thumbs just like humans do! They were teething right across the cob like people it was surreal!

We didn’t take pictures afraid the flash would scare them away and tried to remain inconspicuous. They were very conscious of our presence and when they were done decided to make this apparent by throwing the cobs at us!

When we got back to the house there was still no running water and we had to go to bed dirty, it drove me nuts, but Jeff didn’t seem to care. “Suck it up, this is Africa.” He reminded me.


Day 44

Weekend getaway ends

We woke up and there was still no running water. I brushed my teeth and rinsed with what was left of the water in my bottle and got dressed. We walked through town, got brunch and Jeff dropped me off at the bus station so I could head back to Dar early. I don’t know how I would’ve handled the bus ride home without knocking myself out with Gravol, there were chickens riding on the bus with us clucking and flapping and smelling real bad!

I got into Dar later that afternoon and Baraka picked me up at the bus station. I was so eager to get home and finally shower but Baraka insisted I stay over at his place for dinner. I showed him the stuff I bought and he spotted the Maasai beads. He shot me a sly grin and asked if I knew what they were for.. I had forgotten he was Maasai. I blushed and quickly put them away and he laughed at me.

We had rice and beans for dinner and after he took me home. As soon as he left I made a beeline for the shower and savoured every cold droplet that came from the tap.


Day 45

Arusha crew comes to Dar!

The other Canadian Cooperants from my training group, stationed in Arusha have flown down to Dar for the week to attend an HIV/AIDS delegates meeting. They are 3 other girls, Andrea, Mary & Madeline also working in HIV/AIDS programming and development. I was the only one assigned to Dar while the other three are together in Arusha so it’s been lonely not having other friends to see and do stuff with. It’s their first visit to Dar so I’ll be showing them around.

We grew close during our pre-departure training in Ottawa and we were each other’s support when we were waiting to leave. They were the first to receive their work permits and visa and have been here since January. I had major issues with my visa and it took forever to have my work permit approved so I was the very last one to depart.

They’re older and more experienced than I am in the world of international development. I was the youngest Cooperant in our group so they’ve been like my big sisters coaching me on how to deal with the issues we’re up against and looking out for me. They’ve also been teaching me bad words and retorts in Swahili for when men are harassing me.. but I don’t think I have the guts to try it out!

They share a house in Arusha but work for different NGO’s. In some ways I’m envious of them cause they have each other to lean on in Arusha. But on the other hand, being alone here in Dar has forced me to become independent and immerse myself with the locals than if I had been stationed with a group.


Day 46

HIV/AIDS delegates meeting in Dar es Salaam

It’s a three-day meeting paid for by CIDA (Canadian International Development Agency) devoted to assessing, monitoring and revamping our HIV/AIDS partner programmes. It’s Ottawa's way of keeping tabs on us and make sure the work we’re doing suits the interest of Canada. In total there were 9 NGO partners represented at the meeting.

The early sessions began with a review of the National Strategy on HIV/AIDS. There are 3 basic pillars through which various issues are addressed and policies are set in place.

1) Reduce Mortality for those already positive
2) Prevention –those who are negative stay negative
3) Eliminate stigma –through education and transmittal literacy

Next we went over current and pressing issues:

Generic ARV’s shipped from India, have been killing people instead of helping them. People have found their CD4 count drops even lower with the use of these particular drugs and they suffer severe side effects including nausea vomiting and migraines so there’s been a big amount of lobbying and advocacy to pull these drugs off the market and pull in other generics.

Nevirapine, a pharma cocktail for pregnant mothers to prevent MTCT (mother to child transmission) is another area of concern. There is still a high percentage that the baby will test HIV+, and when they do they are completely screwed if their mother has been on this drug because they develop a resistance to ARV’s and will be lucky to see their 2nd birthday.

Babies are safe from infection inside the womb as the virus does not cross the placental barrier and amniotic fluid is safe from infection. The risk of infection occurs during the passage through the birth canal so caesarean births would normally help prevent transmittal. But unlike in North America, caesarean sections here are costly and not as widely performed to prevent the transmittal of infection from mother to child.

Additionally, some mothers don’t even know they’re positive and give birth, and breastfeed not knowing they have passed on the infection to their child until it’s too late. There’s more research in the works for prevention of MTCT including focusing on STI (sexually transmitted infections) prevention as it’s been found STI’s increase risk of HIV.

My very own alma mater, Western, has also contributed to HIV/AIDS research and conducted studies using probiotic bacteria in yogurt and incorporating it into the diet, as another measure for prevention in MTCT.

The first ever annual National testing day is this coming July 14. There will be a series of outreach campaigns and mobile clinics to encourage testing so people are aware of their sero status. Currently the literature reads that over 90% of HIV+ people, are positive, but don’t know it. We’ve been warned that when we’re infield we would have to ‘stage’ testing and have our own blood drawn to encourage others to join us.

The issue of deliberate infection also came up. Unlike in Canada there is no law yet in place in Tanzania for those who deliberately infect their partner.


Day 47

Arrrgh bureaucracy!

The next two days are devoted to meetings with representatives of TACAIDS and the UN. Today’s meetings were primarily spent arguing over words and which way arrows should point on a flow chart. There’s a massive difference between “facilitating” and “mitigating” HIV/AIDS treatment, and don’t even get me started on the difference between “scaling up” and “stepping up” prevention efforts, one will have a completely different connotation from the other.

I know these things are necessary but hate the tedious process where they nit pick at every other word and argue over semantics when in the end the general population will get the basic gist from “scaling up” vs. “stepping up”. And when you’re engaged in discussions with hotshots from the UN or National Commission they seem to be enamoured with the sound of their own voice and drone on endlessly.

It’s a small world after all

During the meeting I met Dennis, another Canadian who’s been living in Dar for the past 5 years. He did his Masters at the Unviersity of Dar es Salaam and has been living in Tanzania ever since. He just signed on as a Cooperant with Friends of Tanzania, an orphanage for children who have lost their parents to HIV/AIDS.

He wasn’t available during my orientation the first week I got here so we only met each other during this week’s meeting. After five years of living here his Swahili is very fluent, and he’s pretty settled into Tanzanian life and doesn’t look like he wants to leave after his contract is up. He’s very well travelled and very well connected and has a contact in almost every major city in every major country in Africa.

It turns out we both did went to Western and he graduated only 2 years before I did!! Weird how we never collided on campus all that time, but should find each other on the other side of the globe working in the same city and country!


Day 48

Is blue still my color?

I’ve aspired to work for the UN WHO or WFP but the more exposure I have to the UN the more I feel I’m not cut out for the cutthroat politics involved. I love working on the front-line with people, but hate the other aspect of the work including the bureaucracy and red tape, which I know is unavoidable. With all the meticulous detail they are caught up in, I can also see how easy it is to lose sight of the actual problem.

Calling all Canadians in Tanzania

I’ve been invited by the embassy to attend a Canada Day party at the Canadian Ambassador’s Residence next weekend. When I got the call and they identified themselves as the Canadian High Commission, I froze, thinking they were delivering bad news. I laughed with relief when all it was, was an invitation to the Canada Day celebration. It will be my first Canada Day away from Canada and I’m looking forward to the night out.


Day 49

Day at the Orphanage

We spent the day surveying two of the partner NGO’s including Friends of Tanzania, and Kiota Women Health and Development Organization. Friends of Tanzania is a newly established orphanage Dennis is working for. They take in orphaned children whose parents have died from HIV/AIDS.

There are about 16 children currently living in the residence, and in total over 30 have gone through and had either placed in a home, or died from AIDS. Half the current children have tested HIV + and 5 of them are on ARVs. Despite their conditions, they were like any other kids, happy and carefree.

I have a soft spot when it comes to children. To be born under circumstances of poverty is already hard as it is. But to be afflicted with a deadly virus ravaging through their veins robbing them at a chance to have a life at all, no matter how impoverish, is like a punch in the stomach.

The Mama’s of the house prepped the kids to perform for us a series of traditional dances they’ve been working on. Those kids got moves! They were shaking their hips like there was no tomorrow. There was a little girl who was particularly clingy to me and had the most beautiful smile. Her name was Mali (like the country), I thought, how apropos, I’ve been there.

I told Dennis I’ll be dropping by often to play with the kids.


Day 50

Arusha crew goes to Kariakoo

The girls wanted to load up on supplies while they’re here cause everything is much more expensive in Arusha so I took them to Kariakoo. The UN office being in Arusha has pushed up the standard of living with all the expats and foreigners living in the city and prices are jacked very high. It costs the equivalent of $15 Cdn for a regular sized bottle of shampoo –that’s 3 times as much as what you’d pay back home! A mango costs 2000/ TZ shillings whereas in Dar it’s 500/.

Andrea was a powerhouse when it came to bartering. She was relentless with the vendors and at one point had them running after her when they succumbed to the price she set, as she turned to stage a walk-away. I’m afraid I’m not as aggressive a bargainer as she.

Arusha v. Dar es Salaam

This week the TZ Canadian crew and I kept debating which was a better placement between Arusha and Dar.

– 1 AR: Being expensive was definitely a hit against them
+ 1 AR: There are more expats from the UN office, foreigners and tourists in Arusha so the locals there are used to the different faces and don’t tend to hassle the foreigners as much as they do here in Dar.
+5 AR: Arusha also has all the national parks and close to all the tourist attractions like Safari, Serengetti, Ngorongoro Crater, Rift Valley, Olduvai Jorge, Volcanoes, Hot air ballooning over Moshi, and of course mount Kilimanjaro.
– 2 AR: But you can only do each of those things once and it gets very expensive since they’ve set the prices for foreigners
+ 2 AR: It’s closer to the boarders of Uganda, Congo, and Kenya if you want a weekend getaway somewhere or travel all over East Africa
+ 1 AR: it’s much cooler and temperate being at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro and they’re going through their cold season, which can drop as low as 5 Celsius at night
– 1 AR: you need to pack a lot of warm clothing and use warm blankets at night
TOTAL ARUSHA = 5

+ 3 DSM: City life in Dar is much better and more to do in terms of night life- more places to eat, hang out and go clubbing
– 1 DSM: No moderate temperatures in Dar, just sweltering heat year round. Even during their “cold season” which we’ve entered right now, it’s still about 30+. I’m loving the heat now but when November rolls around and it’s 40+ every single day, don’t know how much I’ll be enjoying the heat then.
+1 DSM: On the other hand, packing for Dar was lighter and simpler –lots of tank tops, tube tops, sarongs, skirts & shorts. No jeans, or heavy clothing, which would’ve weighed my suitcases down
– 1 DSM: Not as much foreigners here as in Arusha and you get hassled more
+ 1 DSM: Dar is cheaper than Arusha. I’ve gotten by on spending no more than the equivalent of $5 Cdn a day!
+ 1 DAR: We’ve got beaches
+ 1 DAR: We’re closer to Zanzibar if you need a weekend getaway
+ 1 DAR: Dar is Tanzania’s Toronto.. enough said.
TOTAL DAR = 6

<<`DAR WINS!!!`>>

In the short amount of time I’ve been living here so far, Dar has grown on me and everyday I fall more in love with the city. I’m really glad I was assigned here even if I’m out here alone cause it’s given me a different experience altogether and hopefully in the end I’ll come out stronger.


Day 51

Arusha crew returns =(

Said goodbye to the girls before they flew back to Arusha. I had so much fun with them while they were here and really needed the pick-me-up and encouragement from them. They also enjoyed their time here in Dar and we went out every night for food, dancing, drinking and good times all around. Now that they’ve had a taste of Dar, they’ll be coming to visit more often. It’s an 8 hour bus ride/2 hr flight, but they’ve fallen in love with the city just like I did and will be back for more!

Jehova’s a mama!!

Jehova gave birth to a baby girl and is naming her after me!! Well it’s not her first name, but her second name is good enough for me! Welcome Faith Hannah John Mkonye into the world! It’s her first child and everyone’s been excited anticipating its arrival. Baraka, who is thrilled to be an uncle, took me to visit them in their home and we took turns fussing over the baby.

Jehova has had malaria twice during the course of her pregnancy and took malaria meds. It doesn’t appear to have affected the baby but it’s still early to tell. Pregnant women are more vulnerable to malaria than women who aren’t pregnant.

I had brought a bundle of Canadian stuff with me to give away as gifts including flags, buttons and pins that my MP office supplied me with, as well as t-shirts, Frisbees, nerf balls and teddy bears with “Canada” or the maple leaf imprinted on it. I gave a cute little plush teddy bear that had a maple leaf stitched on its tummy, as a gift to the baby. Jehova was delighted to receive it and said it will be a wonderful memory of me when I leave.


Day 52

Vivid Dreams part II

I need to come off Larium. I dreamt a pack of monkeys got through my window and invaded my room. When I woke up and looked out my window, I did a double take when I actually saw a monkey walking along the rail of my balcony. I wasn’t sure if I was delusional from my dream or if I really saw a real monkey. I asked the maid if there are monkeys around here and she said there are a few living in the trees in our yard. Maybe I wasn’t seeing things after all.

I learned from Jeff who’s area of expertise is Malaria, that after prolonged use of Larium, the side effects -particularly vivid dreams, continue to manifest long after you stop taking it…. great.... that’s just great.. so I’ll be off Malaria drugs when I get back home but will still dream of monkey invasions. Lovely.

Cross-cultural learning 101: Flashing somebody

Baraka and I hiked out to Coco Beach together and it was the perfect way to spend a breezy Sunday afternoon. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the ocean view.

When we got back Baraka dropped me off at my front door as usual, then said “Flash me if you want me to call you tonight,” “huh?!!” was he seriously asking me to flash him? “You don’t want me to call?” he asked, “You want me to flash you?” I returned. “Then how will I know to call you?” … hmmm, maybe ‘flash’ means something else… “Ok, how do I flash you?” I asked with caution, “Just ring once and I’ll call you right back!” OOOooooohhhhh, he wants me to flash him… so I did.

I always wondered why people were calling me and hanging up… .. now I know why!


Day 53

I’ve fallen in love with a boy named Pili

A PLHA member of TANOPHA brought a boy named Pili into the office. She was a neighbour who knew his parents, both who have died of AIDS and the other children were divided among the other relatives and this boy was the only one remaining, abandoned in the house.

He was most likely the sickest of the bunch so no one wanted could afford the cost of taking him in. A PLHA herself with children of her own, she couldn’t take him in and asked us to place him in an orphanage that would cover the cost of his care and possibly even education should he get better later on.

He was short, boney, wearing tattered clothing, very small and weak, and looked like he was 5 years old. I learned he was actually closer to 10 years. When she handed him over and turned to leave, he began whimpering, unsure of what was going on and the look of despair in his eyes was heart breaking.

Bruno began making calls to see where we can take the boy. When the Chairman, Mr. Kaaya came he asked what the situation was and without a second thought said he would take the boy in. He is HIV positive himself, married but with no children of his own. He is the founder of TANOPHA and has already taken in 2 other orphaned children, a boy and girl. Pili will be the 3rd child in his care.

Mr. Kaaya had errands to run throughout the day before he could take the boy home with him. I had no field assignments and would be in the office all day so offered to look after the boy in the meantime. I motioned for him to come over to where I was sitting. He gingerly walked over and sat with me. He already felt warm from a lingering fever. I pulled out some scrap paper to do origami, remembering it was a big hit with the kids in Mali. He sat on my lap bright eyed as I transformed paper into a crane, frog and boat.

He seemed to accept whatever his fate was at this point. He was so innocent, trusting and willing to be nurtured and cared for I wish I had the power to shield him and all the other children in his shoes, from the cruel world. Just looking at him there was no doubt he was HIV+ and didn’t look to be in great shape even if he were already taking ARV’s.

As we sat there together I felt so sad and wondered if he would live through the year even under Mr. Kaaya’s care. I learned later that day Mr. Kaaya had to admit him in the hospital because when he brought him home he was too sick even take food. His CD4 count had already dropped below 100 and wasn’t on ARV’s as I suspected.

They put him on cocktails right away and administered enteral feed, but he’s already progressed so far, he’s essentially surpassed the point of AIDS and it will just be a matter of time before what’s left of his immunity will completely deteriorate.

He doesn’t deserve this. It’s just not fair..